The Razorangels: When Heroism Fails
by Ginludan
Summary: They never learned his name. They never learned where he came from. Some thought him a hero. Others believed him a villain. They called him a man of wisdom. They called him a barbarion. They called him a man of deciet. They never understood.
1. Prologue

Prologue  
  
"Take it and run! Run, damn you, run!" the barbarian shaman screamed as he threw the pink sphere they had found. The wood elf caught the sphere, and took off running. As he reached the exit of the rocky cavern, he looked back for a moment. He saw his four comrades fighting for their lives, and the fifth one lying dead. All around them swarmed the short, halfling sized grimlings. He saw the shaman look at him, and all at once he gathered his wits and took off running again.  
  
He exited the cavern and entered into a long passageway made of stone. It was almost to dark to see, but every 30 feet or so, a torch hung off the wall and lit only a few feet before it was again suffocated by the darkness. He ran with every bit of strength that he had left. He knew that they must be chasing him. The air was hot and heavy, almost to heavy to breathe. He felt sweat begin to drip down underneath his armor, and over his face.  
  
Ahead of him, he could see another cavern that was well lit. They had come through it earlier. It was full of bones, which were strewn about the floor, and had a great fire roaring in the center. All along the walls, mystic markings had been painted. As he entered the room, the light from the fire forced his eyes to squint, and for a moment he paused. As soon as he was able to open them again, he saw another grimling standing between him and the fire. On the opposite side of the room was the exit. The grimling in front of him had thick black hair that shot out in every direction. It had no armor and looked to be unarmed.  
  
He drew his blades, prepared for an easy fight. He had weapons, and at least a hundred pounds over the grimling, he couldn't lose. As he began to move toward it, it lifted both of its arms and began waving them back and forth while chanting a language he couldn't begin to understand. Suddenly, all the bones on the floor began to shake, and slowly slide together. He looked to either side, and sheathed his blades, realizing how outnumbered he really was. He turned back towards the grimling and rushed it. It stood waiting for him, not moving at all. As he reached it, he grabbed it by the neck and lifted it, and threw it into the fire. It squealed and burst into flame, but the skeletons didn't stop. They were fully formed and completely surrounding him, but not attacking.  
  
He decided not to wait for them. He ran around the fire and toward the next passageway. The skeletons rushed him as soon as he took off. As he ran, he saw two of them cutting him off. His attention was so focused on those two, he didn't notice when a leg bone tangled itself into his feet and knocked him down. In a flash they covered him. He screamed and tried to fight them off. He was lying face down on the dirt floor, trying to push himself up on his arms, as if doing push-ups. All the while, they are clawing him, biting him, and beating him with their fists.  
  
His mind darted. He couldn't die, not here, not like this. It was with this thought he suddenly screamed again. This time, it was not a scream of fear or pain, but a scream of rage. He pushed himself up and managed to get a foot solidly on the ground. He used that leg to propel him out of the pile. Just as he was about to free himself completely, he felt a sharp pain in his side. In his state of mind, he ignored it and pushed out of his head.  
  
The skeletons were still in a pile, trying to get untangled and get up as he staggered to the exit of the cavern. He managed to get into a staggering jog as he made his way down the next passageway, which looked no different from the last. It was then that the pain rushed back to him. He had been ripped to threads. His armor was now all but gone. There wasn't a spot on him that wasn't hurting from a long jagged cut or broken bone. However, his side hurt so much that he barely noticed the rest. He moaned from the pain and stumbled for a moment. One hand reached for the ground to keep him up, while the other went to his right, just under his ribcage. Before it got there, it hit something metallic. His hand rapped around the handle of the dagger, and pulled it out. The pain increased exponentially as he did this, causing him to cry out. He threw the dagger at the wall. Behind him, he could hear the clack of the skeletons' feet. He lifted himself and forced himself to go on through sheer willpower.  
  
He staggered down the hallway in a zigzag pattern. He hurt to much to continue straight. Suddenly, before him, a large tall figure stood blocking the way. His eyes fought to focus on the shape. Suddenly he recognized it as a tall man wearing a robe. A short beard hung from his chin, and the collar stood up around his neck. In his hands, he held a golden staff with a red gem on the top.  
  
"Si.. Sir, thank the gods. You.." Suddenly he went into a coughing fit. "You must help.. me," he barely managed to whisper as the fit subsided.  
  
"Do you have the orb?" the man asked him. The wood elf reached under the tatters of his armor, and pulled out the pink mug-sized orb. It was a miracle it was still there. The man smiled as the wood elf offered it to him. He took it and studied it for a moment. "Ahh, thank you, good wood elf. Your life was worth it, I assure you." The man chuckled and started walking down the passage. The wood elf fell to his knees as he watched the man disappear into the darkness. His strength was shattered, and his will was dead. He heard the skeletons' steps getting closer, but did nothing. There was no reason to run anymore. He knelt, and waited. 


	2. Chapter I

Chapter I  
  
He almost glided along the extremely crowded street. People were all around him, going every which way. Creatures of all shapes and sizes pushed their way past him. Great buildings made of stone, steel, brick, wood, and anything else that would keep the cold out rose everywhere; but most of the time they couldn't even achieve that. The street was made of a solid stone, but had lines carved into it to give the illusion of brick. Most of the lines were long eroded down, and a layer of dirt covered the untrafficed areas. There wasn't a plant to be seen, save for an occasional weed pushed up next to the foundation of some shoddy building.  
  
Great steel ornaments hung off almost every building. Many resembled ornate blades, twisting in directions that didn't make sense, while some resembled spikes reaching for the skies above. Great wooden towers rose up with large vats designed to hold water. Well, at least they were supposed to. Now they were full of holes and rotting wood. Many leaned heavily, threatening to fall over at any moment. The sky was a pale yellow, almost sickly looking. No sun, nor moon, ever graced this sky. One could only see a block or so away before yet another giant building obstructed his view.  
  
He could hear the merchants yelling over the noise of the crowd. He could see the harlots lining the sides of the road, trying hard to look better than the next. The drone of voices whirred around him, and the almost constant light mist continually slapped him in the face. He wore a loose fitting tunic. The bland brown cloth was thick to keep the cold out. The pants were made of the same material. The belt wrapped around his waste wasn't visible underneath the folds of the tunic. On either leg, a sheathe housing a dagger comfortably rested. His boots were made of fairly thick leather, and small leather spikes ringed their cuffs. Over his head he wore a hood, which was attached to the tunic and made of the same material. It cast a shadow over his face hiding it from view. His hands were encased in leather gloves that didn't cover his fingers.  
  
He turned onto a less crowded (but still busy) road. His eyes spotted a man dressed in bright colorful clothing standing, staring open-mouthed straight up, and he slightly smiled. People new to the city were always easy to spot. He watched as two men approached the clueless man. People from primes outside the planes were called clueless. They had always been sheltered in their own worlds, never realizing the true scope of existence. Never realizing that their world was only one of limitless worlds, tumbling around in the prime material plane. All came with the same arrogant belief that their god would protect them, or that their great empire would wage war and defeat any foe. He sighed and moved on. Almost no one new lasted very long.  
  
He finally had reached his destination. The building before him was not huge; in fact it wasn't even that large. It was made of solid stone, and had three great steel smokestacks that could be seen billowing smoke. He pushed open the thick wooden door and stepped inside. Immediately, warm air flooded around him, and low, drum conversations replaced the buzz of the outdoor crowd. He took a long look all around him. Almost every steel- topped table had at least one patron at it. The usual diverse crowd filled them. Fiends sat plotting, old men sat recounting tales of heroism and glory, and others sat brooding in their tankards. His eyes fell upon the bar, which was packed as usual, and the man he was looking for. He was sitting at the bar with a scantily clad girl hanging over his either shoulder.  
  
"What? No seat for me?" he asked as he approached. "Go find yourself a real customer, love," he said as he tossed a small purse of coins onto the bar in front of the girl on the left. She took the purse and looked at him, counted the money inside and then smiled. Without saying a word she glanced at the man next to her for a moment, then hopped off the bar stool and walked towards the door.  
  
"'Ey now, mate. Just what're you tryin' to do? It ain't fair to pay my company more than I do," the man smirked.  
  
"By the looks of her, chief, I just saved you from hating yourself tomorrow," the hooded man responded as the hooded man took the harlot's old seat. The man he was talking to was dressed remarkably like him. He wore the same brown tunic, with the same brown hood. His, however, had leather shoulder pads grafted into it. On the pads, large leather spikes rose up a few inches. Around either wrist, a leather bracer was grafted in, which was also adorned by small leather spikes.  
  
"True enough, true enough," laughed the spiked man.  
  
"What'll it be, cutter?" asked the short and fat bartender as he hobbled over to the new customer. The short fat man had been stabbed in the thigh trying to break up a bar fight decades before, and had walked with a limp ever since.  
  
"Water. I think I can afford it today," replied the hooded man with a half- smile. The bartender stood for a moment looking at him skeptically until he took out a coin purse and counted off 20 coins. He slammed them in front of the bartender. They had barely hit the bar before they vanished into his stubby hands and he was off to prepare the drink. He sat back and waited as the spiked man turned his attention on the girl still next to him. His eyes roamed the rest of the establishment looking for something out of the ordinary. He slightly smiled to himself at that thought. How could anything be out of the ordinary here? This was the kind of bar where you could see a fiend and deva sitting having a drink together, or see two mages suddenly erupt in a fantastic battle of fire and ice.  
  
His eyes stopped roaming on a woman sitting all by herself at a table next to the wall. She looked young, and dressed very well, with long blonde hair rolling down her shoulders. Her figure was small and petite; almost frail. Her facial features were very defined, and her ears very pointy. Immediately he recognized her as an elf. Now this was something out of the ordinary. Her face told him that she was very sad. She was also alone, which meant she probably wandered into the city on accident. She had a drink in front of her, meaning either she had money, or someone had bought it for her. He decided the latter was more likely.  
  
The bartender shuffled past him, setting down the tankard of water as he went past. The hooded man picked it up and took a sip. He looked at the spiked man next to him, who was now engrossed in conversation with the young girl. He decided to go talk to her. Perhaps he wouldn't need to resort to spending his money tonight as his friend had. He stood from the bar stool and approached her table. When he reached her table, she was staring at her drink so lost in thought that she didn't even notice him.  
  
"Excuse me, m'lady. You look as if you could use some company." She looked up, obviously startled.  
  
" I.. I suppose I could," she said cautiously. "Although, I'd probably not be very good company." The hooded man smiled and sat down. As he did, she took a moment to observe him. His drab brown clothes seemed almost universal in this place. He looked up from his drink, and into her eyes. The only word she could have used to describe his face was comfortable. He had a thoughtful, calm look in his eyes, as if pondering everything he saw. His lips were caught somewhere between a smile and a smirk.  
  
"That's alright, I'm never very good company either." For a moment she sat staring at her drink. "If you need another one, lemme know. You look like you could use all the alcohol you can get tonight."  
  
"What do you." she began to say. "Oh, I suppose I do look a bit downcast. That is probably why some nice gentlemen bought this drink for me. Too bad it is practically undrinkable," she said looking at it in disgust.  
  
"What you need, m'lady, is some water," he replied raising his cup to her slightly and then sipping it.  
  
"Water?" She chuckled softly from under her unhappy frown. He gave her an inquisitive look. "I'm terribly sorry. You just strike me as the type to drink something much harder than water." He laughed a little, and took another drink. For a moment, he sat back and looked at her. She seemed to be very tall, and her ears came to a not-so-subtle point. She seemed to be dressed in very fine clothes, and on her finger was a large ring with a yellow and red shield. She was obviously rich, and obviously from a family considered powerful wherever she was from.  
  
"And you don't strike me as the type to be in a place like this." As he said this, the frown returned to her face, as if his words stirred a problem she had forgotten for a moment. "Elves are a rarity in this city," he added as an afterthought.  
  
"And I can understand why! This is a terrible place. This city is cold and bare. The only life here is foul, and corrupted. Nothing green lives here. A place as, as wretched and dirty as this is no place for an elf! It is an abomination to nature itself, and hence an abomination to the Mother of All," she said as she glared at him. For a moment her sadness or despair had been replaced by rage. Slowly her frown returned, and she looked down at the table. "I apologize. I am from a place very far from here, and have never seen such a," she paused for a moment, searching for a word that wasn't offensive, "refined place such as this. I do not know where this anger erupts from."  
  
"It's called fear, m'lady. Happens to a lot of people who come here for the first time. As for our beautiful city, well, m'lady, if your world had existed since the beginning of time, it'd look a lot like this too. But don't worry, you'll get used to it, in time. All the clueless do.  
  
"How dare you?" she demanded, her anger returning, and growing into a rage. "How dare you accuse me of being ignorant when you yourself clearly have never spent a day in a place of learning. I've no intention of getting used to your disgusting city! I will leave as soon as." she again glared at him, as if trying to harm him with her gaze alone. He slowly turned his head back toward her to look into her eyes. The same thoughtful smirk he'd had when he sat down was still on his face.  
  
"As soon as, what, m'lady? As soon as you figure out how? Unless you know a whole lot more than you let on, or you have a lot of jink that's good in this city and not your world, you're gunna be stuck here for quite some time." She stared at him for a moment after he finished talking. Slowly tears began to roll out of her eyes, and soon she buried her head in her hands, sobbing. He realized this wasn't going the direction he wanted it to.  
  
"Listen, m'lady, being clueless is just a phrase. It just means you aren't from." his voice trailed off for a moment, reconsidering, "it means that you're from a prime. And that, well that means you don't know a whole lot about our beautiful city here." Her sobbing began to slowly fade. His demeanor was very soothing. It was as still and calm as ever, as if nothing in the world was wrong, or ever would be. He made her feel strangely safe. "You're obviously form a rich and powerful background. Now you're poor as, well, me. Everything you ever thought you knew is probably going to be in some way disproved in the next few days. Now, the smart thing to do would be to befriend someone like me who's had a few run- ins. Then the next step would be to come to grips with the facts. I mean there's no point in fighting a war that ended yesterday." As he finished, her crying stopped completely. She looked at him for a moment.  
  
"So, you will help me then?" she asked, her voice strengthening with renewed hope. "I don't even know how I got here. I am from a city known as Felwithe. I was on a voyage to the great library of Erudin. While there, I saw a great blue portal open, unlike any I've ever seen. Through it came a wizard dressed in all red robes. I decided to investigate the portal, and somehow I stepped through. Now I am stuck here. Not even my gate spell will work. I have no idea where I am, except that I am stuck in the dirtiest, most dilapidated city I have ever seen, or how to get back." Her eyes were filling with tears again, and one began to make its way down her face. He had been right, and he knew he was close to his goal.  
  
"Well, for a start, you're in the greatest city ever build. A city that's never been involved in a battle, but contains dozens of wars every day. A city that was built at the beginning of time, and won't be gone until the end of time; or so the legends say. Sigil, the City of Doors; center of the multiverse, well, of all the planes for that matter; and home to every conceivable good dream and terrible nightmare you've ever had. The whole city isn't so bad, you just happened to get stuck in the hive." He paused as she gave him a confused look. "The slums. Now then, city names don't do me any good. I've never heard of any of those places, and I'm almost positive I never will again. Does your prime, er, world, have a name?"  
  
"You mean I'm in the planes? I have journeyed there before, and I assure you that this is not one of them. Surely, you must have heard of Norrath before?"  
  
"I really don't wanna take the time to explain the workings of it all to you, but those so-called planes you visited in Norrath weren't real planes. They were just parts of the rest of the world that were cut off by the deities that happened to reside there. And nope, I've defiantly never heard of Norrath before. Where exactly did you come through the portal at?"  
  
"When I arrived here, I was just across the street. In fact, I thought the doorway across the street was the portal, but when I stepped through it, nothing happened."  
  
"Well of course, you gotta have the right key." He looked over at where the spiked man was sitting; only now he was standing between the girl he had been talking to and a large, heavily armored man. He was obviously exchanging unfriendly words with the man. The hooded man glanced around the bar, and saw two other men sitting at a table who were intently watching the developing situation. He turned his attention back to the distraught woman sitting next to him. "Damnit," he muttered to himself "Listen, m'lady, I'm not going to lie to you. When I came over here, I had every intention of finding your misfortune and exploiting it to get you back to my kip for a night. However, much to my dismay, something has come up, and I actually sorta liked you. It's damn near impossible for you to get back right now. The key could be anything, and it costs quite a bit to hire a planewalker to figure it all out for you." He threw a small purse of coins on the table in front of her. "I recommend you don't blow that on drinks. I'm guessing you don't have any money. Take that, and go down about four blocks spireward. You'll see a building with a man standing outside of it offering beds for rent. It's a flophouse, and I'm sure it isn't anywhere near to the regal upbringing you've obviously enjoyed, but you'll have to live with it. Now, if you'll excuse me." He began to get up from the table.  
  
"Wait! You must help me! Do not just leave me here!" She saw that her words were being ignored, as he was now standing just in front of the table, with his full attention across the room. "At least tell me what spireward means and I don't think I got your name, mine's Velonishia," she said, choking back tears.  
  
"It means toward the giant spire you'll see outside. Hang a left just outside the door, and you might wanna keep your name to yourself," he said, looking back at her for a moment and smiling. "You'll be fine, m'lady. Just remember, everyone and everything here can kill you, so treat it like that. Just stay alive, and you'll get the hang of it sooner or later." Suddenly shouting came from across the room. His head shot back in that direction just in time to see the armored man drawing his weapon, and the two men at the table beginning to get up. From somewhere inside the folds of his sleeve, the hooded man produced a dagger. In a heartbeat he took a step forward and let it fly. It struck the armored man in the sideof the neck, causing him to yell out and fall into the bar. Immediately the spiked man pulled two small crossbows out from holsters hanging from either leg, spun, and let two bolts fly at the two men rushing over. Both men recoiled as they were hit in the chest as if their legs had been taken out from underneath them. Everyone in the establishment had stopped for a moment to watch, but promptly returned to their previous conversations.  
  
The hooded man crossed the bar towards the spiked man as he was rolling the body of the dead man onto his back. He took out a dagger and slit the man's coin purse from his belt. The girl he had been talking to had taken off and ran through the door during the fight.  
  
"Lets go, chief," the hooded man said as he approached. He paused for a moment to get his dagger out of the dead man's neck. "Not only did you screw up my potential mark, but you lost your own too. And I'm guessing you spent quite a bit on her."  
  
"Pike off," came the spiked man's reply as the two made their way to the door and walked out. "Oh yea, there was some sod lookin' for ya earlier. Said somethin' 'bout an all important job." As they stepped into the night, the cold air slapped them in the face. It was a very cold night. The street was deserted, except for the occasional figure scurrying to or from some building.  
  
"How'd you know he was looking for me?" the hooded man asked as they strolled down the street.  
  
"Said he was lookin' for the hero of Malathem. That'd be you, mate."  
  
"Any idea who he was?"  
  
"Nah, not at all. Won't be to hard ta find out though. Didn't keep a low profile. They never do." The hooded man slightly smiled.  
  
"No, they never do." His ears caught the sound of laughter followed by voices coming from a dark alleyway as they passed it. His eyes could barely make out the four or five thugs skulking in the darkness. Slowly his thought drifted back to the man looking for him. "Hero, hah!" he laughed. "Hero my ass." 


	3. Chapter II

Chapter II  
  
"Milady! Milady! You must hurry, you will be late for the feast!" came the high-pitched voice of the gnome banging on her chamber door.  
  
"I know! Wait but a minute!" she yelled back as she scurried about the room. She glanced in a mirror as she passed it. Her hair was straight again. She groaned. She knew she had no time to fix it. She could not be late for this occasion; her father would have her head. The man he wished her to marry would be there; as would the man she wished to marry. She couldn't wait to get there. All the nobility would be there; all dressed as beautifully as they could be. The dinner would be exquisite, and then, best of all, there would be the dancing! She threw open the doors of her room. "Here I am!"  
  
"It's about time," the gnome squawked. He reached up to grab onto her arm and began to pull her toward the stairs. "We must hurry, your father left an hour ago. Your carriage is waiting, milady." With the gnome pulling her along, she entered into the entry hall. The mansion was abuzz with commotion. Very important guests were coming to stay after the great feast tonight. Everywhere, a servant was gently dabbing with a dust mop, or washing a window. Already, the mansion glistened. Great bronze statues sparkled, and suits of armor stood tall and spotless.  
  
As she entered the main room, all those working stopped and stared at her, and the little gnome let go of her arm. She wore a large dress that was mainly red, but had yellow shoulders and sleeves (red and yellow were the colors of the family crest). Her long golden High Elven hair streamed down her back as a great waterfall. She smiled at their reaction, and began to descend the staircase. As she passed them, they smiled and politely said "Milady", and she nodded in acknowledgment.  
  
She stepped through the giant doors leading outside, and was enveloped by a thick warm air. Her eyes gazed around. Her home was a giant mansion in a secluded part of the city of Felwithe. Around her home, you could hardly tell that it was within a city. Great trees rose up, and a lawn sprawled out in every direction. To the east, the hedges surrounding the orchard could be seen. Before her was a long stone walkway, which led to a small courtyard which surrounded a huge fountain. Beyond that was another walkway, at the end of which her carriage waited. As she walked along, she heard birds singing all around her. She passed the courtyard and continued towards the waiting carriage. The carriage's door was open, and on either side of it a man dressed in white stood. The gnome was hurrying along behind her now, chattering instructions.  
  
"Now remember, milady. Use the forks in order of the meal, the outermost forks first, and for Tunare's sake, be polite to everyone!" he said. As she reached the carriage, she turned to him.  
  
"Do not worry about me so much, Gliz. I will be fine," she smiled. She leaned over and kissed his bald spot, and turned to enter carriage. The man on her left helped her into the carriage, and closed the door. She felt the carriage jerk and it began to move. She could hardly wait. Her excitement made the uneventful ride very long. She couldn't wait to see everyone there. Sir Gashanial would be there too! It had been over a month since he had been home. So adventurous, she thought. He was a true hero. He was a wood elven soldier. He fought great battles, and came back with great treasures and tails, and of course he was very handsome. Her father hated her infatuation with him, but how was she to help it? Every one of her friends was as enthralled by him as she was. Her father wanted her to marry a high elf that was at least twice her age. Of course he would probably make the model husband, and of course he was rich, but that wasn't at all what she wanted.  
  
Finally the carriage drew to a stop. She looked out the window to see that they had entered into the palace. Four carriages were lined up ahead of hers, letting their owners out at the entrance. She watched the people emerging from the carriages. They all looked so wonderful. All wore the best clothing money could buy, and were obviously groomed to perfection by the most expensive barbers. Out of the carriage ahead of hers, she saw a wood elf climb down and turn to offer his hand to someone stil within. Instantly she recognized him, it was Sir Gashanial. She watched, barely able to contain herself, as he helped an older wood elvish woman (probably his mother) out of the carriage. He linked arms with her, and together they walked into the palace.  
  
Her carriage rolled up to the walk, and one of the men in white jumped down from in front, and opened the door for her. He held out his hand for her to use for support as she stepped down. She walked quickly towards the entrance, her excitement getting the better of her.  
  
"Ah! Lady Perpheliot, how good of you to come," said a high elf standing next to the door. "Your seat is just over there," he said pointing to a table at which her father was sitting, talking to several important looking people.. She smiled and thanked him and moved forward. She looked around the room in awe. There were people everywhere, and every one of them looked as if they themselves were royalty. She tried hard to spot Gashanial, but she could not. She decided she should go greet her father.  
  
"Hello, father," she said as she reached the table.  
  
"Perpheliot, my daughter! How good it is to see you!" he said loudly. "Excuse me for a moment," he said to those he had been talking to. He took her arm forcefully and pulled her aside. "Do you realize how late you are? It is a wonder that you still got in at all"  
  
"I am sorry, sir. It will not happen again."  
  
"Surely it will not, for this is likely the only feast of this magnitude you will ever attend! Very well, sit down. The food will arrive soon, and I've arranged for Lord Gilimonti to sit at our table." It took all her will to fight off a groan. How many times had she told her father that she was not interested in Gilimonti?  
  
"But, Father.." she began, but he quickly cut her off.  
  
"I will not have this conversation now. Not tonight. Now sit down. Why can you not be more like your sister, and less like your mother?"  
  
She nodded, defeated. She went over to her place, and sat down. Her eyes glanced around the room again. Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time. They were all laughing or chatting pleasantly. Then her eyes spotted Gashanial. He was sitting at a table almost all the way across the room. Three girls were sitting around him, all paying very close attention to what he was saying. She knew that he must have been telling the story of his latest adventure. It was probably a tale of bravery and heroism in the face of certain doom. She longed to hear it as well. Suddenly, her train of thought was broken.  
  
"Good evening, Lady Perpheliot. You are looking absolutely splendid this evening." Her eyes moved to the speaker to see a tall high elf with thick white hair sitting down across from her.  
  
"Hello, Sir Gilimonti. It is very good to see you this evening. You are looking very well this evening yourself," she said with a polite smile. She stole a quick glance at her father sitting next to her who simply smiled and nodded, as if approving. Suddenly, trumpets sounded. Everyone in the room grew quiet, and stood. The king and queen had arrived. Slowly they paraded down the center aisle of the room, with their daughter just behind. She wished so much that she could be their daughter. Firiona Vie was beautiful, and often had great adventures. She was Tunare's champion. She could have anything she wanted with the wave of her hand. How could life be any more fulfilling than that?  
  
As they sat down, everyone sat and resumed their conversations. The rest of the evening dragged on slowly. The food began to arrive, and throughout the meal she was constantly engaged in conversation with Gilimonti. She wished he would simply shut up. Every once in a while, she quickly glanced at Gashanial, who was happily eating and laughing with those around him.  
  
Finally the meal was drawing to a close, and the dancing would begin soon. She knew that she must dance with Gilimonti at least once, but she hoped that she could lose him in the crowd of the dance floor and steal away to Gashanial. Most of the guests were done with their meal, and chatting happily waiting for the king and queen to finish. She felt bad hating Gilimonti so. He was a very nice elf, and seemed only to have the best of intentions. It was her father who had latched him to her. Why couldn't her father let her be more like her sister, and go off to study to be something more than a courtly lady? Suddenly the doors of the great chamber were thrown open. Through them came a Vah`Shir dressed in solid steel armor, obviously geared for combat. His golden fur could barely be seen in between the steel plates protecting him. A hush fell on the entire room. He walked briskly up to the stairs before the king and knelt with his head down. The king and queen both stood at his approach.  
  
"You may stand," the king said with a curious voice. "What is it that brings you here, good Vah`Shir?"  
  
"Milord, I have been as an emissary by King Raja Kerrath to implore your assistance. Milord, The Grey has been emptied. A great army of Shissar is on the move; quite possibly every one that there is. It is at least five thousand strong. Reports have been flying that an ancient artifact has been removed from deep in the Acrylia mines, and the grimlings have all but disappeared. Milord, Shar`Vhal can not stand alone against the Shissar army, and neither of the combine empires will commit their forces to us for fear they will be destroyed." With his last words, the entire room broke into hushed whispers of excitement and surprise. The king sat down and stared ahead with a far away look. Finally he spoke.  
  
"Do you know how long it has been since my people have been engaged in a full scale war?" he asked, staring at the feline. "Five thousand strong." he repeated to himself. He seemed shocked by the request for an official elvish army. It had been so long since it had been debated whether or not one should be formed to lay siege to Cabalis.  
  
"Father, I shall go," said Firiona Vie suddenly standing. "I shall take a host of elves, and will ensure the safety of Shar`Vhal." The king looked over at her for a moment.  
  
"Yes," he said, his voice trailing off. Then, with conviction in his voice, "Tell the honorable King Raja Kerrath that a host of elvish knights, and a detachment of archers are on their way. I would also recommend that you send an emissary to Qeynos and Erudin if it is not yet to late."  
  
"Thank you, Milord!" the Vah`Shir said ecstatically. We have already sent emissaries to Qeynos and Erudin, as well as Cabalis and Neriak."  
  
"What?" the king roared. "I will not send my kin to fight along side of dark elves and Iksar who would just as soon betray them! Much less my daughter!" The crowd jeered in agreement.  
  
"Milord! I implore you to understand. We have no enemies, all which shall be there will be there only with the intent of safe guarding our city."  
  
"Surely, you are not asking me to align myself with the Dark Elves or the Iksar! It is utterly out of the question."  
  
"Father, may I have a moment?" Firiona Vie whispered into the king's ear. Together they stood and withdrew out of hearing range, and returned a short time later.  
  
"Very well, Vah`Shir. There will be a thousand of my elves at Shar`Vhal in a month's time. That is all I am willing to send, do not ask for more." Many more hushed whispers rushed through the crowd. The king's choice astonished them.  
  
"Thank you, Milord! Thank you!" the Vah`Shir said again elated. He nodded in thanks at the princess before he turned and was off. The king then again stood to address the assembly.  
  
"I am sorry, my guests, however this shall bring the evening to a close. Much planning and preparation must be begun this very night." The king stood and hurriedly left the room, followed closely by his wife and daughter. The dinner guests sat around, not sure what to do. Slowly, they stood up and began to leave. Many were very unhappy with the events of the night, and were loudly vocal of the fact. Perpheliot's father was approached by a human wearing long red robes, with thick black hair, whom asked for a moment of his time. As her father left to speak with the man, she sat there watching people leave. Across from her, Gilimonti was also sitting silently watching people leave.  
  
"My, a war!" he said, suddenly turning around. "A real war. The last one took place when I was hardly a boy. That is quite some time ago," he chuckled. "I wonder whom they shall send to lead the wood elvish archers? I do believe that all their battle experienced generals have aged beyond war readiness."  
  
Perpheliot immediately thought of Gashanial. Her eyes frantically searched for him, but his table was empty and it was evident that both he and his mother had already left. She was sure he would be sent off to Shar`Vhal. He was one of the most prominent wood elvish soldiers there was. Suddenly her father rushed to her and roughly grabbed her arm.  
  
"Come Perpheliot, we must go. I bid you goodnight Sir Gilimonti," her father said. He was clearly very distressed about something.  
  
"Have a good evening!" he called back, still sitting and watching everyone leave. She followed her father, struggling to keep up as he stormed through the crowd, not apologizing for anyone he stepped on or pushed aside. Finally they reached their carriage. As soon as they climbed in and the door was closed, her father spoke to her in a somber voice.  
  
"Perpheliot, I was just informed of something awful. Your sister is missing. Lord Semp`Tal sent word. She disappeared in Erudin. Despite the local authorities' best efforts, she can't be found anywhere inside the city. I cannot go myself; not with this war looming on the horizon. Lord Semp`Tal will meet you in the docks of Freeport. I am sure he will be upset that I chose to send you, but I've no other choice. A member of our family must be sent, and your mother is too busy praying to the trees to care. I've sent word ahead. Gliz and a few servants will accompany you." She stared at him in a shocked silence. Her sister was gone? She was getting to go out on a journey? She had never left the safety of the Faydarks! But, her sister was missing. This was terrible! She didn't know what to say, and so remained silent. Her father stared out the window for the rest of the trip. As soon as they reached the mansion he jumped out. "Bring your sister home safe, and listen to Lord Semp`Tal. He will look after you. All arrangements will be made ahead of time. You are simply going to be an emissary of our family to demonstrate our interest in the situation." He turned and began to walk away, but suddenly stopped as an afterthought struck him. "And do be careful, I do care about you."  
  
"Yes, Father," she nodded. He turned and walked off. The driver came around and offered his hand to her to help her down. As she stepped down, she couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. 


	4. Chapter III

He pushed open the heavy wooden door, which was banded together by steel. As he stepped into the establishment, his eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness. Slowly they came back into focus. He scanned the room to see a common bar laid out before him. To his right were several metal tables; all bolted to the floor. Very few people sat at them. One of those who did was the man with spikes on either shoulder. The spiked man's hood was pulled low over his eyes so his face was unseen. When he saw his friend walk in, he slightly nodded in an almost undetectable acknowledgement.  
  
The man who had just entered looked over to his left, and at the bar. A few men sat at it, nursing drinks. One of them was leaning back, with his back resting on the bar, while he stared out into the rest of the establishment. The man who had just entered smiled slightly and immediately recognized the man he was looking for. He approached the seat next to him, and leaned back on bar with both elbows resting on it.  
  
"Evening, sir. Can I get you something to drink?" asked the man who had been leaning against the bar first. He was richly dressed, wearing long bright red garments complimented by a deep purple sash. He had gold bracelets around his wrists, and an ornate dagger hanging at his hip.  
  
"No thanks, I'm not here to drink," replied the newcomer. He was still wearing the same drab, thick brown clothing he had been wearing one week ago. His hood was pulled back, revealing his shaggy brown hair that looked as if it had been plopped on top of his head.  
  
"Well, there's not very much else you can do in a place like this," the richly dressed man laughed.  
  
"That's true most of the time. I've got business."  
  
"Business? Well, that often does ruin one's day."  
  
"I understand you're looking for a man. A man who fought at the battle of Malathem."  
  
"That is true, I won't deny. So am I to understand your business has something to do with my business as well then? Damn! You're going to ruin my day too."  
  
"Something like that, chief," the brown clad man chuckled. "Listen, I heard you're looking for the hero of Malathem, and I'm here to tell you that you aren't gunna find him."  
  
"Oh, and what makes you so sure?" asked the richly dressed man, now turning slightly to look at him.  
  
"He's dead, chief."  
  
"Dead? Really? Damn. I had hoped for much better than that. What makes you so sure?"  
  
"I watched him die. So did you. The only heroes of Malathem are now buried beneath its blood soaked grounds.  
  
"Ah, so true, so true, every one of them were heroes" the rich man replied. "However, I am looking for the hero that did not die. The man who rallied the remaining troops and carried my people to victory by defeating the black fiend all alone."  
  
"Chief, I'm telling you, you won't find him. He never existed. You were taken by a hoax. You've been deceived."  
  
"Oh? How do you figure? The fiend is dead, and my grand city still stands. Despite your opinion, sir, that man is a hero."  
  
"He had ulterior motives. He used your men, Floniggen. He used all those men who thought they were fighting to save their kingdom. He used them to destroy a fiend who was out to destroy him. He didn't fight for the good of your kingdom. Hell, he didn't even know the name of your kingdom." Now, the rich man intently stared at the man clad in brown. Their eyes met and he tried desperately to decipher the brown clad man. However, all he saw in his eyes was a relaxed look, as if he were lying on a tropical beach without a care in the world. Something about him stirred a feeling in the rich man that he couldn't shake.  
  
"Sir, regardless of the motives that man had, he was a hero. Because of him, my city still stands, and my kingdom still reigns over all the land that has always been its own. If we all judged men by their motives instead of their deeds, our world would have very few heroes indeed," Floniggen said. The brown clad man turned and looked back out over the bar.  
  
"I understand you had a job for this man. I would know what it is," he said.  
  
"Do you realize how many men have come to me claiming to be the hero of Malathen? I already have found it impossible to tell with of them is truly he. Why then, sir, should I entrust such information to you?" Floniggen continued to stare at him intently. The brown clad man just smiled and lets his eyes fall on where the spiked man still sat and hovered over his drink.  
  
"Because, chief, I'm not claiming to be him." At these words, Floniggen stared for another moment, and then smiled, allowing his gaze too to wander back over the establishment. There was a long period of silence as he sipped his drink and stared off, deep in thought.  
  
"You know my name. I do not know yours. If we are to discus business, I need to know your name," the rich man replied.  
  
"You still don't know the man's name of whom you seek, yet you would discuss business with him. You know nothing of him. Why then, good sir, would you trust him more than I?"  
  
"He saved my city."  
  
"Your people saved your city. They are the ones who died for it." As the man clad in brown said this, Floniggen fell silent. For a long period of time they sat silently watching the rest of the bar.  
  
"Have you heard of the Stone of Florin?" Floniggen finally asked, breaking the silence.  
  
"Yea, I've heard the stories, legends, whatever you want to call them."  
  
"It's reemerged."  
  
"Reemerged? I wasn't aware it was gone."  
  
"It's been missing for some thousand years. It' remerged on the moon of some backward prime. Those who found it probably have no idea what it is, but they know that it's important."  
  
"A moon?"  
  
"Yea, a moon."  
  
"It's been years since I've even seen a moon. Who found it?"  
  
"I don't know. All I know is who's going to find it."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Baator's mobilized an army. So has Mount Celestia and a hundred other planes. Everyone wants that stone. Baator will be there first."  
  
"Damn shame." Floniggen looked over at the brown clad man surprised by his passive attitude, and then looked away again.  
  
"Yes, it would be a shame. You know what they say about that stone?"  
  
"Yea, I know all about it. It holds the truth to existence and the key of mortality itself. What's this got to do with us?"  
  
"I want that stone."  
  
"Ah, and so you are going to mobilize your own army to get it, and you need a great hero to lead it." As the brown clad man said this, Floniggen turned to look at him, but the brown clad man continued to stare off into the darkness of the bar. "You do realize that waging any sort of war against Baator is suicide. Not to mention Mount Celestia or any of the uncountable other armies you say are going to be grasping for the stone.  
  
"He won an impossible war once, he can do it again."  
  
"Some words of advice, chief. He may have won that one battle with a lot of luck and a little trickery, but he can't win a whole piking war for you. Raising an army that can contend with Baator is an almost impossible task. Even if you won, everyone would know where to come look for you to steal the stone. You'd be dead within a year. Not to mention the fact that any war of half that magnitude would level the prime and wipe out everyone who lived there."  
  
"The prime is of no consequence to me, or anyone else for that matter. It has not had contact with the planes in hundreds of years."  
  
"All the more reason blindly destroying it might not be your best course. Here's the deal: if you were to send in single blood, or maybe two, they could sneak in, steal the stone, and get out before anyone even knows what's gone on. No one will even know who has it anymore. It's all yours. And you won't level a plane and be responsible for millions of deaths. Besides, it's a whole lot cheaper."  
  
"How much cheaper?"  
  
"Well, if I were hiring some poor stupid sod to try this stunt out, I'd say about twenty five thousand up front, and seventy five upon delivery."  
  
"I disagree, my friend. I think about twenty thousand up front and sixty thousand afterwards."  
  
"Maybe if you were to offer twenty thousand up front, and seventy thousand afterwards, and buy me a drink, you'd have a shot." The brown clad man was now smirking at Floniggen. He knew he had won.  
  
"Very well. Barkeep, a bakra stout for my friend here!" he called. "Now, when can I expect delivery?"  
  
"It's tough to say. It's a delicate operation. Getting there, stealing a stone the whole prime will probably be fighting over, and getting out alive, without leveling the prime." Floniggen sighed heavily.  
  
"So, you're saying it's going to take a while?"  
  
"A month, maybe two tops."  
  
"Very well." He pulled out a surprisingly small coin purse. He tugged the strings to loosen it, and shook it into his hand. Out rolled three bright gleaming blue stones, with a white mist in their core. "Do you know what these are?"  
  
"Of course. I've. acquired a few of them in my time. Each one will sell for about ten thousand to a fancy jeweler." Floniggen took two of the small stones and dropped them in the hand of the brown clad man.  
  
"Pleasure doing business with you, chief," the brown clad man said.  
  
"I don't know yet," replied Floniggen..  
  
"Where do you want me to deliver it once I have it here?"  
  
"I'll be in town for a while. You will be able to find me." As he said this, Floniggen got up to leave. "I have no idea why I'm trusting you like this."  
  
"Because I'm your best bet, chief. One more thing, what the name of the prime and how do I get there?"  
  
"The name of the prime is Norrath. I have no idea how to get there, much less its moon. Like I said earlier, it has been cut off for the last few hundred years. You're going to be hard pressed to find anyone who knows the way there."  
  
"Alright then chief, I got it under control. If it costs me any money to get there though, the price is goin up," the brown clad man said. Floniggen looked at him for a moment.  
  
"Very well," he muttered and turned to walk out.  
  
The brown clad man sat at the bar holding the drink his employer had purchased for him thinking. Ninety thousand wasn't too bad, especially not for this job. Besides, this would give him another crack at that elf girl. What was her name again? Never mind, it didn't matter. She couldn't have gone to far in one week. 


	5. Chapter IV

She carefully stepped down the ramp, being help by Gliz on her left and a human on her right. A little further down the dock, several suitcases were being slid down another ramp. One of them struck the bottom heavily and fell over, making a loud slapping sound as it hit the stone street.  
  
"Hey! You must be careful of those! Do you realize how expensive these are?" she demanded as she stormed over to the other ramp.  
  
"I'm really sorry, milady. I didn't mean to."  
  
"I'm sure you did not mean it, but whether you did or not is the issue here. You nearly damaged my luggage! How do you know whether something in it was glass or not? Do you realize what you could have done?" Suddenly Gliz rushed over and slightly tugged on her arm.  
  
"Come, Lady Perpheliot, we must be meeting Lord Semp`Tal."  
  
"Very well! See to it my luggage is treated with more care, and this wretch is dealt with," she fumed as she stormed off. As soon as she had walked away, Gliz turned to the young man.  
  
"I'm really sorry about that, lad. Here, perhaps this will make it up to you," he said as he handed the young man a few golden coins and hurried after her.  
  
"Thank you, sir!" called the boy as Gliz vanished into the crowded street.  
  
Lady Perpheliot followed her servants as they made their way down the busy Freeport street. Gliz caught up to her as they neared the tavern at which they were to meet Lord Semp`Tal. Lord Semp`Tal was the one of the most respected and feared men in the Elvish court; and certainly the only human. Many hated him, mostly out of fear. He was a magician of unspeakable power. It was said he could bring forth elementals that could rival the gods' own creations. She had known him since she was a little girl. She couldn't imagine him as a powerful and deadly man. He was always so gentle and kind to her. He and her father were very close friends. She always wondered how they had met, since her father was a politician and Lord Semp`Tal was a mage dedicated to research. Usually those two groups were totally opposed to one another.  
  
She turned to look behind her, and saw a cart being pulled by a small horse with all her luggage piled in. She thought of the boy she had yelled at, and hoped she had not been to hard on him. "Gliz probably let him really have it," she thought. Gliz was never patient with foolish mistakes. Her servants turned towards a large two-story building painted entirely blue, with white trimmings. One of them opened the door and stepped aside for her. She stepped inside, and looked about. The tavern was amazingly bright and full of music. People were sitting at small round wooden tables and enjoying meals while chatting happily.  
  
"Ah! Lady Perpheliot! How good it is to see you again!" came a voice from in front of her. She saw a tall and thin human wearing black and blue robes. His beard was very narrow, long and black. His mustache extended so far to the sides that the ends drooped and mingled with his beard. Immediately upon seeing him, she lit up. "Lord Semp`Tal! I have not seen you in so long!"  
  
"My, how you have grown. You are truly becoming a woman," he said while standing back and admiring her. "Now come! You must join me for a meal. We've much to discuss, and time is short. We must make for Erudin before the fall of darkness. Tidings of a war are carried on the wind, and such times are not favorable for travelers."  
  
"Yes, the elves have agreed to assist the Vah`Shir with the impending war," she said as she followed him to a small wooden table with two seats.  
  
"So I have heard. Fools. This is one matter they should not be involved in. I am sure that Firiona Vie has her hand in this, spouting Tunare's praises no doubt."  
  
"I think that Lady Vie is very courageous in wishing to aid the poor Vah`Shir despite their differences." As soon as they sat down, two men dressed in white hurried over and began to set their places at the table.  
  
"Indeed. I believe there is more to this than anyone really realizes. It is often a wonder to me how you elves believe that everything on Norrath is part of your business."  
  
"Lord Semp`Tal!" she declared loudly, obviously offended.  
  
"I apologize, milady. I simply think that at times you elves are a bit, how shall I say, ambitious."  
  
"We must be. If we do not defend our land, who will? The humans? The dwarves? The halflings? The guilds? They exist only for profit."  
  
"There are some forces at work that you have not yet begun to see, milady. But that is not a topic for this time and place. The issue at hand is, of course, the disappearance of your sister."  
  
"Oh my! Yes, of course. I trust you have some leads that we shall begin following up on?"  
  
"Sadly, no, milady. We must journey to Erudin and speak to them there. It is clearly not kidnapping, for there has been no ransom demanded. This circumstance baffles even me."  
  
"How very odd. I do hope she is alright," Lady Perpheliot said. For the first time, a look of worry crawled across her face. If not even Lord Semp`Tal has any ideas, this could be much more serious than she thought. She had assumed her sister had run off with some adventuring hero, or gone to explore some magical place like Surefall Galde.  
  
"Ah! The food is arriving," Lord Semp`Tal said as more servants dressed in all white began to approach with large silver dishes.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
They walked side by side down the street. The sky above them had a bright yellowish glow. Both of them had their hoods pulled over their heads. All around them, people were swarming past. The street beneath their feet became increasingly a thicker layer of dirt as they moved further towards the great spire reaching up far before them.  
  
"Nintey Thousand all together, eh mate?" asked the man with spikes protruding his shoulders, wrists and ankles.  
  
"Shouldn't be tough, just gotta deal with a few clueless sods," replied his brown clad companion.  
  
"So, we'll have this girl with us the whole time we're there, 'ight, mate?"  
  
"You know as well as I do, chief. Just don't do anything stupid. What's the big deal about it anyway?" the brown clad man asked. The spiked man looked over at him.  
  
"You gone blind mate? She's piking beautiful. That's top shelf material right there."  
  
"She's rich. She won't let you touch her."  
  
"That's why you went after her, right mate?"  
  
"Hey, I have a certain grace, a charm if you will," the brown clad man said smugly. "Either way though, we'll be makin a whole lotta jink."  
  
"Pike the jink, mate. I want the girl." The brown clad man smiled slightly. At least his friend had his priorities straight.  
  
They veered towards a long, low, and ram shackled wooden building. Its entrance was in poor repair, and appeared to be barely held up by two beams made of rotting wood. A short fat, and dirty man stood beneath the awning yelling to the crowded street.  
  
"Beds here! Beds! Don't get caught out here in the cold tonight! Beds! Comfortable, cheap, and mostly bug free! Beds for rent here!" he called. The two men approached him.  
  
"Excuse me, good sir. Is there a woman staying here? Can't miss her, she's an elf wearin rich clothes. Prolly cryin a whole lot," the brown clad man asked him.  
  
"Aw, come on there, basher. You know I dun't rat out my houseguests. If I did that, you'd be dead a few times by now," the man replied. "Oh! I almost fergot: there was some graybeard 'round here the other day askin 'bout two nameless wanderers. Lot a people told um 'bout you, and 'e seemed pretty interested." The brown clad man looked over at the spiked man.  
  
"Hey, chief, are we nameless wanderers?"  
  
"Not last time I checked, mate. We're just two hard workin' berks tryin ta make an honest livin."  
  
"Hah! Honest my arse!" replied the short fat man. The brown clad man's hand disappeared into his sleeve. When it reemerged it was holding a small coin purse. He handed it to the short fat man.  
  
"There, chief. We're even. Neither one of us owes you any jink at all now. Count it if you'd like," he said. The short fat man fumbled with the purse's strings for a moment before opening it. He glanced inside, and rolled it around in his fingers.  
  
"Alright, cutter. The girl you're lookin' for is here. She rented the private room in back 'bout a week ago. Her money ran out two days ago, but I didn't have the heart to kick her out. She hasn't left the room since she went in. I hope you'll be gettin' rid of her. Every night we can 'ear her sobbin. Some of my customers are gettin' mad," he said after examining the coin purse.  
  
"All right, chief. We'll take care of it. Here, take this, it'll make up for those two nights," said the brown clad man as he threw ten small copper coins to the fat man. The man stopped for a moment to count them.  
  
"Ey, you paid for an extra day here, cutter."  
  
"I know. I need the room for a day," said the brown clad man as the two men entered into the building. All around them were bunk beds stacked upon one another, four or five tall. They all reached the ceiling, and many were used at support beams as well as beds. The floorboards were chipped and broken. The ceiling above let some light from the sky shine in small holes. They made their way across the room to the opposite side of the entrance. There, in the back wall, stood a narrow door. "Remember, chief. We're heroes. We're savin her ass here. She has no idea she's helping us out."  
  
"Yea, yea. It's all under control, mate. Just be careful 'bout it, ok?" replied the spiked man.  
  
"Chief, don't worry 'bout it. It's no different than any other con job we've ever pulled," the brown clad man said. As soon as he finished he started chuckling.  
  
"'An what's so funny, mate?"  
  
"Just thinkin' about you goin soft. An assassin who's never once let a mark get away doesn't wanna hurt some 'lil elf girl."  
  
"'Ey! I just don't wanna get her hurt if we can avoid it, that's all. Come on, mate, ya can't tell me ya don't share my vision,"the spiked man said in defense. The brown man just stared at him and shook his head from side to side slowly, not saying a word. "Pike you," the spiked man barked. The brown clad man laughed a little and pushed the door open. He glanced inside for a moment before stepping in and closing the door again.  
  
The room was surprisingly dark. The shades over the window were closed, and let very little light through. A dilapidated dresser could be seen standing next to the door. The drawers looked as if they would fall apart if opened. A nightstand in the same repair as the dresser stood next to the bed. The bed itself was obviously once a grand bed, made of steel painted gold. Now, in its late age, it was peeling and rusting. The sheets heaped over her hid the elf from his view. He approached the bed slowly without making a noise (he was clearly experienced in this manner). The sheets stirred a little as he moved along side. As he came to the front of the bed, he could see a mound of blonde hair that completely covered her head, which was buried in the pillow hiding it from view.  
  
"M'lady, are you able to breathe like that? You look like you're drowning in your own hai," he said in a very soft tone. Suddenly she jolted, holding herself up on her arms. Her hair was still covering her face until she brushed it out of the way.  
  
"You!" she declared loudly. "You have a lot of nerve coming here! I asked you for help, and this is where you sent me? Get out! Get out, now!" she screamed. Her screaming was so loud that all the people in the room just outside hers could clearly hear it.  
  
"Shh, ya don't wanna wake up the barbriar in there. Those things are mean if you make them mad."  
  
"I too can be very mean when someone makes me mad! Now GET OUT."  
  
"Listen, m'lady. I don't see why you're so upset. I had no obligation to help you, and I was even nice enough to give ya a little jink to get you by. You even managed to squander that, I see."  
  
"If you do not leave, I will have the owner of this establishment come and remove you!"  
  
"Actually, m'lady, you really can't do that."  
  
"Oh? And just what do you think will stop me? I do not even fear your dagger at this point!"  
  
"Well, m'lady, your money ran out a few days ago. So, as of about ten minutes ago, this room became mine until this time tomorrow. So, if you'll be so kind, I need to get some rest," he said smugly as he nodded towards the door, indicating she should leave. As she saw him do this, she reeled up. She realized that he was right. There was nothing she could do about this. Fear began to build in her again. Where would she go? What would she do? She was starving, but had no means of getting food; the owner was kind enough to give her little bits of food every now and then. She had no belongings to pack. Her once beautiful golden hair was now greasy and dirty. She threw back the bed covers in a fury.  
  
"You, sir, are a rotten piece of life, as corrupt and dirty as the rest of this horrible city."  
  
"You don't look so clean yourself, m'lady." With those words, she fumed.  
  
She quickly got out of the bed. As soon as she did, he threw out his arms to either side and collapsed in it with a loud sigh. Her anger raged, but she clearly saw that she had no impact on him. She stamped over to the door, and threw it open, slamming it against the wall, and almost breaking it. With that she stormed out.  
  
As soon as she entered the large room full of beds, she stopped for a moment to look around. All around things were staring at her. Some were men, others women, others she couldn't tell. In the corner of the room she could see a large centaur like creature with its head dipped to the side. Out of its head, large horns protruded. She guessed that was the barbriar, it didn't look friendly at all. She huffed and walked briskly to the exit. As she passed one of the pillars of bunk beds, a voice spoke.  
  
"Piking sod, that one," it calmly said. She jumped a little and turned to look at the speaker. For a moment she thought it was the man who had just booted her out of her room. This man was dressed almost identically. The only difference were the tall leather spikes protruding off of his shoulders, and the spikes coming from his unusually large bracer which reached up to his elbow. He was leaning up against the bed-pillar she had just passed. As soon as he saw he had her attention, he stepped towards her. His hands went up and pulled back his hood. The face that came into view was that of a human. His hair was a much darker brown than the other man's. A small goatee pointed forward off of his chin. She looked into his eyes, and saw the exact same calm, laid back look she had seen in the other man.  
  
"Well, sir, it appears we have a common enemy," she said, grasping for how to respond.  
  
"Enemy isn't the right word, m'am. In fact, you should be thankful to him."  
  
"Oh? And why in the world would that be?" she asked, visibly annoyed.  
  
"He told me of your plight, and I'm here to help you. All ya gotta do is show me where this portal is, and tell me everything ya heard, saw, smelled, felt, and thought at the moment ya saw it open. But, fer the moment, lets go to a more suitable environment to have this conversation." She was at a complete loss. Had the man she had just screamed at really gotten her this aid? He had said it was very expensive, and that he was poor. She was at a loss, and began to feel guilty.  
  
"Ok. Where did you have in mind?" she asked, her voice much less sure of itself.  
  
"Follow me, m'am," he said and smiled as he walked out. She followed closely behind him. "Now, we can't be doin this thing today. I've got some askin 'round to do first. We'll get you a nicer place to stay, an edible meal, and maybe even cleaned up a 'lil."  
  
"That sounds absolutely wonderful," she said, much happier. "When do you think I will be able to return?"  
  
"Well, m'am. It's like this. Portals are tricky things to nail down, an' it's even tougher to figure out what key ya need to open it with. It's gunna depend on the portal, really."  
  
"Ah, I understand. That's why it is so expensive then?" she inquired, hoping to find out just how much this had cost. "Ya don't need ta be worrin 'bout money, m'am. It's been taken care of," he said as they moved down the street. The street was becoming increasingly busy as they moved along. The buildings along the sides were becoming less and less dilapidated as well. Some even looked almost regal in their own cold stone way. She also noticed that the light was beginning to fade. She looked up, but could see no sun anywhere in the sky. It was just a dull yellow haze. She followed closely behind the spiked man, almost clinging to him (which was much to his delight). She couldn't believe the number of people here. It was almost like watching a bee hive that children had been throwing rocks at. Suddenly she recalled the hooded man's words ".you just happened to get stuck in the hive." Creatures she had never even dreamed of pushed their way past them. At one point a drunken man grabbed her shoulder and pulled her to the side raving about a great elf queen returning. The spiked man quickly and forcefully separated the man's hand from her shoulder, and pulled her along forward.  
  
He turned off the main street they were on and onto a smaller almost deserted road that was just slightly bigger than an alleyway. He moved along more swiftly now, and she struggled to keep up. Suddenly, a man wearing all red robes stepped in front of him from out of nowhere. The spiked man stopped in his tracks and looked at the man in red robes suspiciously. His head turned slightly to either side, allowing his peripheral vision to pick up on at least three more behind him. Velonishia audibly gasped.  
  
"That woman does not belong here. If you would be so kind as to turn her over without creating an incident, we would be most grateful," the red robed man in front of them declared loudly.  
  
"The man I saw exit the portal was dressed exactly like these men," she whispered into the spiked man's ear. He tilted his head and pondered a moment, and slowly smiled.  
  
"Well, mate, that's quite the subjective request. I mean, I've no idea what ya'd call an incident," he said with a playful tone.  
  
"Give us the woman, sir. Now," came the reply.  
  
"Well then, mate. At least make it worth my while, if ya get what I'm sayin." As the spiked man said this, she recoiled from him. Would he really turn her over like that?  
  
"Allowing you to keep your life is compensation enough."  
  
"And what makes ya think you can beat me?"  
  
"Sir, you are outnumbered five to one. This is growing tiresome. I will not ask again." The spiked man pulled out a miniature crossbow and, with an outstretched arm, pointed it right at the head of the man in front of him. Immediately Velonishia recognized him as the man who had caused the bar fight that first night she had arrived. As soon as he had his weapon out, she heard several swords being drawn.  
  
"I only counted three others. What'd ya think the odds are of them killin me 'fore I can pull this trigger?" he asked, still smirking at the robed man's face. "As you would have it," the robed man said. He immediately waved his arm in front of him, creating a transparent barrier that held a barely detectable yellow tint without saying a word. The spiked man grabbed Velonishia with his free hand as he dove to the ground, and fired a bolt with the other. She could not see anything, but she heard a slight yell of pain from the direction the bolt had gone in. The spiked man let her go and pulled out his second crossbow, letting an arrow fly at the barrier. It slammed into the barrier, and hung there as if it had almost broken through glass. A visible crack could be seen. By now three other men were moving quickly to close in on them.  
  
Suddenly a figure jumped over her, seemingly from a building above. She propped herself up in time to see the brown clad man spin around one of the robed men wrapping an arm around his neck as he did so. He jolted his arm quickly, and the blade he held in his hand slit the throat of the robe man. He used the momentum from the jolt to spin again and parry a slash coming from another of the men. Before the man had a chance to recover, he slammed his second dagger into his chest. Her eyes shot to the side to see the fourth falling back with a bolt in his face.  
  
The man who had created the barrier had stood and watched, stunned. Suddenly the barrier faded, and the bolt it had been holding up clattered to the ground. His eyes were wide with fear as they watched the bolt fall, and then look up. Both the spiked man and the brown clad man were standing side by side now.  
  
"The way I see it, chief, is that you have about four seconds to save yourself before you're dead. The big question on everybody's mind is how you're going to use them," the brown clad man said in a smug tone. The robed glanced back for a moment, looking as though he was going to run. Suddenly he turned back towards them screaming, and sprinted towards them while drawing his blade. "Bad plan, chief. I'm disappointed." The brown clad man waited until but a moment before he would have been impaled on the robed man's sword, and stepped to his right, holding his dagger out to his left side. As the man charge past him, he spun half way around, using the man's own momentum and the momentum from his spin to slice across the robed man's stomach. He took a step back, spun his blade, and sheathed it as the man fell dead.  
  
It took Velonishia a moment to grasp what had just occurred. Around her were the bodies of five men, all robed in red.  
  
"What have you done? These men could have told us how to open the portal to Norrath!" she screamed.  
  
"Listen, m'lady, if you want to try to bargain with them next time, you need to say something before he starts shooting," said the brown clad man, indicating the spiked man.  
  
"I should have known you two were working together! How could be fooled so easily? This is a nightmare." By now, the spiked men had returned his weapons to their holsters and walked over as if to console her, while the brown clad man rolled one of the bodies over onto its back with his foot.  
  
"Actually, m'am, we really were gunna take you back to your prime," the spiked man said, trying to ease her anger.  
  
"I see no further reason I should trust either of you. I would have been better off staying at the flophouse and working for my bed!" she said as she turned away and began walking a few steps.  
  
"Wait, wait one se."  
  
"Nah, let her go, chief. If she wants to be a harlot, that's her prerogative. We don't need her now anyway, I think I got the key," the brown clad man said, standing up with a small medallion dangling from a chain. Upon hearing him say this, her walk slowed, and she timidly turned her head slowly around. Then she realized what she had heard and spun around.  
  
"You don't need me anymore? So I was just a convenient method for you to find your way into Norrath, is that it? You wanted to use me so that you could go and try to scheme and pollute Norrath as you have this place, am I right?" she demanded. Her anger again made her self-confident. She stormed back up to them. The thought of men like these being in Norrath sickened her.  
  
"You're in quite the spot to be accusing people, m'lady. You come to our city, insult it and me to my face, take money from me, squander it all feeling sorry for yourself, and you saw fit to yell at me for renting a room at the flophouse. Then you blindly accept a stranger's help in a place where every other man you see would probably kill you given a moment's chance. Now, after all that, you decide it's wise to accuse us of wanting to destroy your unknown little berg when we clearly have the means to get you back there, and are your one and only shot. Brilliant, m'lady, absolutely brilliant," the brown clad man replied in the same laid-back manner in which he always spoke. His words made her stop for a moment. She thought about what he said, and hated to admit to herself that he was right.  
  
"I. I am sorry. I know that there is no excuse for my behavior. I." she began.  
  
"Sure there is," the brown clad man interrupted her, slapping her on the shoulder as he walked past. "They don't call you people clueless for nothin'." Now then, it'll be dark here soon. That's good. If these damned berks had friends, they won't be able to find us." 


	6. Chapter V

The huge lizard like creature that had been before him fell with a loud clang sound as its steel armor crashed to the ground. He leaned over and grabbed an amulet that was tied around its neck. In a quick deft motion, he cut the chain and freed the amulet. As he held it, he studied it. It was a circle wrought of solid iron. In the circle, the image of a scaled bird clutching flames in its talons could be made out. He smiled; he had found exactly what he was looking for. Suddenly out of the corner of his eye he saw something coming at him.  
  
He jumped up, and in a flash had produced a dagger from his sleeve and slammed it into the oncoming creature. He withdrew it and the creature hit the ground with an audible thud. All around him, he could hear the sounds of steel clashing with steel as men and elves fought savagely fought against untold numbers of fiends. He picked a fiend out, flicked his wrist and sent his dagger hurtling towards its forehead. Before he even knew whether his throw had landed or not, he spun, producing two more daggers so quickly that it could not be told from where they came. His head lashed around surveying the situation. The fiends clearly outnumbered the men and elves by a large ratio. However, the men and elves fought valiantly, and seemed to be holding their own against the swarm.  
  
He sprinted headlong at a group of five or six oncoming slim snake like creatures with large bat like wings. As he met them, he rolled to his right so that his back was facing them. With his left arm extended, the dagger it held slammed into one of them sending it screaming to the ground. His right arm popped up with the blade facing backwards and hit another of the slim creatures over his shoulder. He spun back around and parried the thrust of another of the creatures with his left hand. His right hand slid under its attack and sliced it cleanly across the throat. The hand that had parried the blow flew back to his left, and with the blade facing backwards, sliced into a creature that had begun to rush at him. The fifth and final of the group stared had him several feet away, unmoving. It's tongue flicked out of its snake like head for a moment as they stared at each other.  
  
"I know you. I have seen you in the past," it hissed at him. He turned to face it completely, and stood up straight, staring it in the eye. It hissed again. "You were supposed to be dead! I watched you die," it said very surprised as it finally placed his face.  
  
"You aren't the first," he said, a smile evident on his face. The battle was now raging fifty yards ahead of where it had been, and they stood alone behind the line.  
  
"Never the less, you shall die now," the creature hissed at him. It leapt and extended its wings and sailed at him at incredible speed. He dove and rolled underneath it. As soon as it landed it turned to see a dagger hurtling at it. He approached the now dead creature, and pulled his dagger out of its face. Just as he turned to look at the battle ahead he heard it. A scream, loud enough to barely be audible over the screams and sounds of battle.  
  
"He is here! Run! Run for your lives!" His eyes darted to where the scream had come from, but all he beheld was the ranks of the elves and men dissolving and running, and being cut down from behind as they did so. Then suddenly, over the line of the battle, he saw a giant winged creature arise. It was completely coal black, as if only a silhouette of the actual being. Immediately he knew what it was. He stared at it, his eyes wide, not sure what to do. His head whipped around to see a great city behind him in flames. Great flaming chunks of some unknown material were still hurtling at it from somewhere behind the battle line.  
  
Suddenly he sat straight up. In either hand he had a dagger drawn. A cold sweat covered his entire body. He felt his adrenaline coursing through his veins, as if he had just lived through the moment he dreamed about. He shook his head slightly and looked around. He had been sleeping up against a log, not far from a campfire. The fire was in the center of a clearing. Around most of the clearing was what appeared to be a solid wall of pine trees. The portion that was not barricaded by the thick pine trees was a cliff. His mine was struggling to grasp the present and shake off the dream. Finally he remembered. He was on this stinking prime again. He stood up and looked around. Not to far away his friend adorned in spikes slept leaning against a tree stump. The girl they had brought with them seemed to be gone. For a moment he wondered about her, but he shrugged it off. She was no concern of his. He wandered several yards to their north, and came to the edge of the cliff. Down below in the darkness he could hear the waves crushing against the coast. He could not get the images of the dream out of his mind.  
  
"Steady, chief. That was a long time ago." he muttered to himself. Suddenly he heard a soft voice behind him.  
  
"You were awakened by a dream as well?" came the woman's voice. For a moment he stood staring off into the dark. Finally he turned to face her. For a moment his look was far away, lost in thought, but his usual controlled smirk returned quickly.  
  
"It seems that the only memories you dream of are those you do not wish to relive, m'lady," he said to her before turning to look back over the ocean.  
  
"I do not think there are any moments of my life that I do not relish. Save for the past week or so. However, even that was quite an experience for me. I am glad to have had it."  
  
"How old are you, m'lady? Are you over a century old yet?"  
  
"I am only sixty seven. Very young by elf standards, yet quite old by yours." As she said this, he turned to look at her again.  
  
"You are quick to judge people's standards. But I understand your meaning. Where are we?" he asked her.  
  
"We are on the northern edge of a continent known as Kunark. We must be careful here. The iksar have long held a strong presence here, despite the loss of their great empire."  
  
"I'm not worried. Maybe you can help us, you know, as payment for our assistance in getting you back here. We need to get there," he said, pointing up into the sky at Luclin, now clearly visible in the dark.  
  
"Ah, Luclin. To reach Luclin, you must journey to one of the wizard spires and speak with a scion there. Might I ask what your business on Luclin is?" "There is an object there of tremendous value. We need to get it before." suddenly he stopped and looked back over at her. "Well, before certain other parties do."  
  
"I see. So your task is merely mercenary then," she said, sounding slightly disappointed.  
  
"Something like that. So, why don't you tell me what you were really doing in Sigil now, and why in the nine hells you have gate keepers after you." She whirled at him as he spoke this, her eyes clearly giving away her worry.  
  
"Gate Keepers? And they were hunting me? I do not even know of a gatekeeper. As I told you, I saw a portal open and I."  
  
"Bar that, m'lady. Listen, I'm assuming you're going to wanna be coming with us. That's fine, and you don't even have to tell me why they want you, but I don't need any more of those piking Gate Keepers chasing after me. So make sure you cover your tracks as well as we cover ours, got it? Hey, sod, wake up!" he called to the spiked man. "There a civilized town near by?" he asked her as the spiked man stirred and began to get up. She stood staring at him, totally confused.  
  
"What are these Gate Keepers?" she demanded.  
  
"Don't worry about it, they won't find us out here," he replied. "But right now, I really need to find somewhere where people outnumber wolves, and rats outnumber people."  
  
"The nearest city is Cabalis. It is quite a distance away, and it is the throne of the Iksar Empire. They will kill you the moment they see you. So you may go if you wish," she said matter of factly, obviously not happy with his withholding of information.  
  
"How far is it?"  
  
"You cannot seriously mean to go there," she said, a little shocked. "I was not seriously suggesting that we journey there. It is a terrible place full of slavery, sacrifices, deceit and villainy!" she said in shock.  
  
"Sounds just like home," the spiked man chimed in.  
  
"They shall kill us without a second thought!" she exclaimed.  
  
"Listen, m'lady. Every sod I've ever met has tried to kill me at one time or another, present company included," the brown clad man said indicating the spiked man. "Where and how far is it?"  
  
"It is about twenty miles south east of here. However, I beg you to reconsider. No good can come of our going there. The moment that they see us."  
  
"Who said they are ever going to see us? And, of course, you don't gotta come with us," the brown clad man said with a smirk. "You have nothing to worry about, m'lady. I assure you. Moments later he had disappeared into the thick brush of the pine trees. She looked at the spiked man who was now standing, still looking very much asleep on his feet. He shrugged at her lazily and followed. She stood for a moment staring after them. The fire suddenly dimmed and vanished entirely. She jumped at the sudden change of lighting. She realized she really had no choice in the matter, and ran to catch up to the two men. 


	7. Chapter 6

His feet fell on the wet stones silently as he floated along the darkened street. To his right was a chasm filled with water that served as a swimming road to the lizard like creatures whom inhabited this city. His hood was pulled low over his face to hide it from view, and he had stolen a rug hanging on a line, which he now wore as a cape. He used the sheathe of a sword to protrude behind him, forcing the cape out as if he had a tail. He moved swiftly and silently down the street, his head lowered and slightly turning from side to side. The city had obviously been involved in some large battle that had nearly destroyed it. Great chunks of stone were still missing from portions of its walls and a few buildings. Many buildings had been repaired. The repairs were obvious; the materials used to patch them were not the same color or as dirty as the original materials of the building.  
  
Finally he saw what he was looking for: a small area with several buildings and a few tents that served as the marketplace of the town. As he made his way towards it, the number of lizard creatures (Iksar the girl had called them) began to increase. His eyes fell on a stand selling what appeared to be some sort of fruit. To its side was another stand selling fine jewelry. He made his way to the stand selling fine jewelry. As he approached, the man standing behind it began excitedly pointing at different items on the table and exclaiming something in a language he could not understand. The table was draped with a cloth that was clearly to large for it, causing the cloth to drape on the ground.  
  
His gloved hand left his robe and pointed at a ring locked in a small glass case. The ring was obviously the most expensive item on the table. The constant chattering of the merchant suddenly stopped. He stared at the mysterious stranger (whom he believed was a fellow Iksar) with hesitation. Slowly he produced a key and unlocked the box. He removed the ring and passed it into the hand of the cloaked stranger. The stranger slowly turned in the ring in his fingers. The ring once had a gold coating over the top of it, much of which was now scraped away. Beneath the coating, an odd black rock gleamed. He has seen this black rock in the past, and knew from whence it came. Its front held an obviously ornate jewel that's color seemed to change from red to blue depending on how you were looking at it. He held the jewel up to the light of the torch over the fruit stand in the guise of studying the gem while he actually carefully surveyed the fruits. Other Iksar began to gather and marvel at the beauty of the jewel of the ring. He made a motion to return the ring to its owner. As the owners hand also reached for the ring, he released the ring too early, causing it to fall. The ring fell from their hands and hit the ground, rolling under the table.  
  
Immediately everyone in the area dove for the table. The merchant let out a short yell and was instantly under the stand trying to fight off all the other hands for the ring. No one had noticed that the ring he had actually slipped down the side of the stranger's boot. The stranger for a moment bent down as if to also reach for it. No one noticed as his other hand quickly grabbed a couple of the strange fruits and tucked them into his sleeve. As the fighting over the ring continued, he leaned against the fruit stand. Slowly and carefully as to not attract attention he slid a few more items into his sleeve.  
  
He stood watching the pandemonium of the lizards struggling with and hissing at each other. Several well-armored guards approached and began to drag the lizards out of the teeming clump one by one. Many had open wounds from the others claws. The stranger did not notice the robed figure across the market square staring at him throughout the ordeal. The stranger turned and walked slowly and calmly away. In a few moments, he had slipped into an alleyway and was totally out of sight of the market. He made his way through a maze of alleys intertwining between the stone abodes and emerged into a large street. Down not far away were the two paths that led to the gate. Before he had made it but a few steps down the road, a voice behind him caused him to stop.  
  
"None of my people are thieves," came a raspy reptilian voice. "What are you, insolent?" The stranger turned slowly, to see a relatively tall Iksar, garbed in a rich and thick maroon robe. His face showed no emotion (even for an Iksar), and his eyes seemed to be staring straight at the stranger, probing into the darkness of the hood. The stranger stepped towards him and pulled his hood back, revealing the face of a human. For a seemingly long moment, their eyes met. The iksar could not understand what it was that he saw in the stranger's eyes. It was long ago that he had mastered both his mind and his body, and sworn himself to the Lord of Terror. In his long life of two hundred and four years, he had seen what he believed was everything one could see. Not only had he seen it, but also he understood its meaning and purpose. He had come to learn that every action, every thought, and every decision was a direct result of fear. It was fear that warned you which course of action was the safest, and thereby determined which action you chose. It was for lack of fear that many did foolish thing and perished. Fear held the true power over the soul. Terror was simply an embellished form of fear that could be used to force an individual down a specific path. Terror then held true power.  
  
However, as he stared into the eyes of the human before him, he felt something within himself stir he had never known before. The look in human's eyes held neither fear, nor confidence in its place. They were both relaxed and ready. They were curious, and at the same time understood. The human bowed his head and closed his eyes after a moment, as if to bid him farewell. With that he turned and began to walk away.  
  
"Are you so arrogant, human, spawn of the north men filth, that you may pass through our realm unharmed? Or perhaps you believe we are a weak people," the Iksar said to him, causing him to stop and turn slightly to look back at the monk of Cazic Thule.  
  
"I'm far from a religious fanatic, or being naive, chief. However," for a moment his gaze lifted to the sky and scanned the clouds slowly as if expecting something. "However, I do believe there is an eye in the sky watching me carefully this day." At this the monk scowled. "So Tunare has monks dedicating themselves to her now, does she? Pathetic whelps," he thought. But even as these thoughts finished crossing his mind, his eyes caught sight of the human's, who was once again staring at him. Something in them rattled him. His scowl faded into a curious look, as he remembered that monks do not steal.  
  
Suddenly a guard patrolling the street caught sight of the human. He yelled out something alerting several other guards. The human's head whipped around and appraised the situation. Suddenly he was off with alarming speed towards the gate. The Iksar guardsmen had no hope of catching him, but the gate guards had heard the alarm and five of them were now blocking the human's escape path. Suddenly two of them fell as if struck by a huge fist. The monk stared in disbelief. Surely no god would favor this thief enough to grand such a blatant boon to him. The remaining two guards seemed surprised but not shaken. The human, still many yards to them, produced a dagger out of one of his loose sleeves. In a moment he had thrown the dagger into the forehead of one of the guards. The other had taken off sprinting at him, but was struck down by the invisible fist half way to him. The human sped through the gate and was lost into the swamp beyond.  
  
The monk approached the nearest body that had been stricken down by the unknown force. He immediately recognized what had killed them. The other guards, panting loudly, now arrived as well. Their eyes beheld the guard lying on his back with the small sleek shaft of a crossbow bolt perfectly shot between his eyes into the cross section in his helmet that had allowed him to see.  
  
"Eye in the sky indeed!" huffed the monk. He turned to return to his duties in the city, and took one last look over his shoulder at the gate. Slowly his eyes turned to the skyline of the city, and the great wall surrounding it. "Eye in the sky indeed." he repeated to himself. 


End file.
